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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23722321">High Hopes Low Luck</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf'>Goldstone_Wolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>High Hopes Low (Blank) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons &amp; Dragons (Roleplaying Game), High Hopes Low Rolls (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blackberry Cobbler, Blood, Broken Bones, Choking, Food Used As A Weapon, Gen, Magic Gone Wrong, Sort Of, but not that kind of choking, guys this was meant to be fluff and it did not turn out that way, potions gone wrong, tws for:</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:28:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23722321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldstone_Wolf/pseuds/Goldstone_Wolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paddy and Malark incur the wrath of a witch who curses them to have bad luck. After one embarrassment after another and then them simply getting hurt, things get much worse when one of them has a potion dumped all over him. Now, High Hopes has to find and create the cure…and keep the one splashed with the potion from killing the other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>High Hopes Members and Each Other I Guess, none really - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>High Hopes Low (Blank) [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>High Hopes Low Luck</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TWs in tags. This shouldn’t be too bad or too long as my longest works tend to be angst or multi-chapter. I promise I will write for the other characters eventually, but for the moment the Padlark ship (or whatever we’ve named it) reigns supreme. The names of the cure components are made up, as I am not a witch and did not have Internet access at the time of the manuscript’s paper scribbling. Now, into the fray!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>          Paddy had long since admitted they were cursed.</p><p>          Malark, however, waited until he’d had a cooling blackberry cobbler land on his head as they walked back to the inn.</p><p>          As he wiped purplish black syrup off his cloak, scowling, he took a deep breath. The pie’s maker shouted an apology, and he looked up. “Not your fault! I should have watched where I was walking!” Turning to Paddy and the others, he groaned. “Alright, I admit it—we’re cursed. But why us? No one else is having these problems.”</p><p>          Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. The day before, they had all had to chase off a witch from the nearby forest, both for her own safety and the town’s. It was sad, really—she was a lonely old woman who wasn’t really a witch (or so they thought, apparently they were wrong), she just liked flowers. But her experiments or potions or whatever she had been doing were causing a drought and a famine. Seeing as how the plants that were dying when they left the day before had suddenly revitalized, and the fact that several people were lugging water buckets into their houses, both had rapidly begun to disappear. However, they liked to think they’d taken the better route—the townsfolk had barely settled for her being chased off rather than simply killed.</p><p>          That morning, Paddy had woken up after sleepwalking—out the second-story <em>window.</em> He’d never done that before. The sleepwalking bit, not the window. He’d done <em>that </em>more times than he could count in the past month. Then, Malark and Nagar were walking down the stairs when the assassin tripped. Instead of catching him, Nagar managed to rip his shirt off instead—in front of the whole lobby. Thankfully, people were more worried about the man taking the worst way down the stairs than they were amused. Later, a tomato very clearly aiming for Nagar <em>turned in midair</em> and hit Malark right on the black eye he now sported. By eight in the morning, Paddy had sprained his ankle and both had bruises that weren’t there this morning.</p><p>          “On the bright side,” Mina began, wrapping an arm around Paddy’s shoulders and smiling sadly when he jumped at the contact, “this should only last for about three days.”</p><p>          Paddy and Malark exchanged a glance.</p><p>          By lunchtime, things escalated. Malark got kicked in the stomach by a horse (“he’s normally so calm!” the owner yelped, Malark grunted that he was okay) and Paddy was almost decapitated twice. The first time was a random axe flying through the air, which missed his nose by a hair. The second was when Nagar <em>shifted</em>. The dragonborn <em>moved. </em>He literally <em>only moved</em>, and the next thing they knew Paddy was gasping on the ground with a massive gash across his shoulders from Nagar’s battleaxe.</p><p>          Getting to the inn without being hurt was a hassle. Whatever went wrong seemed to. Some building materials almost impaled Malark. At the last moment, Hashaan managed to pull him under her. It didn’t save him from a crushed leg, however—they all heard the <em>crack</em> and a muffled grunt of pain. Paddy got decked by a total stranger who thought he was someone else, as if the sprained ankle and newly-stitched gash weren’t enough trouble as it was.</p><p>          The wood elf was breaking down the second they were behind closed doors. Malark slumped down on the other bed, which thankfully stayed standing. When Nagar went to Paddy, he flinched away like he’d been shocked. Pain crossed both their faces before Paddy was sobbing into his hands and Mina was holding him close, whispering to him as he panicked.</p><p>          Hashaan sat by Malark, who was staring at the floor. As Mina eased Paddy to sleep, Malark looked up at them. “Vat are you vorried about?” She asked quietly, trying not to disturb the now-sleeping Paddy. Mina had done a miracle.</p><p>          Malark looked at the bedside table where he put the blades he often carried. “This lasts for three <em>days. </em>It probably gets worse, too, and today was bad enough. Bay Hollow was burned, and then I was assigned to kill Paddy.”</p><p>          Mina frowned, running her hand through Paddy’s hair as he dozed. She, Ava, and Terra had managed to get him under the blankets without anything crazy happening. “You think there’s a connection.”</p><p>          Malark nodded and met her gaze, blue eyes suddenly dark. “I think whoever destroyed Bay Hollow thinks that Paddy is a threat. The guild knows I turned traitor, or at least that I failed and Paddy is still alive. Which means Paddy and I are <em>both </em>targets, and I can almost guarantee they’ll send someone else.”</p><p>          “What did they do to the traitors?” Gwing asked, and Malark looked back at the knives. “Malark.”</p><p>          “If you were lucky, you just disappeared. If not…” He trailed off and shook his head, then looked back. “You guys need to protect Paddy. If they do send someone, he won’t make it long.”</p><p>          Frowning, Hashaan looked him over. With his leg broken, he didn’t seem in a fit state to fight, either, especially with it cast up. “And vat about you?” He kept his eyes on Paddy.</p><p>          “If they get me, then you’ll have plenty of time for a rescue mission.”</p><p>~</p><p>A/N: IT TURNED INTO ANGST AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH</p><p>~</p><p>          Malark didn’t sleep much that night.</p><p>          It wasn’t because Paddy nearly strangled himself when the blankets wrapped around his neck in the middle of the night. It wasn’t because every movement and sound made him think that the guild’s assassins were already outside the window, waiting to come in. It wasn’t because of the others taking shifts to watch over them. It wasn’t even because of Paddy’s sudden spell-caused night terrors that left him with a sore throat and red eyes the next morning.</p><p>          It was because his mind would not stop spiralling down one twisted path after the other. He didn’t think the witch meant to hurt them—fear seemed to be her motive. It was just their luck that they were constantly involved with dangerous…well, <em>everything</em>.</p><p>          The morning passed by slowly, Malark holding Paddy’s gaze from across the room. What he <em>really </em>wanted was to run to the elf and give him a hug. Not because he had feelings for the elf (he <em>didn’t</em>, and dancing and almost kissing once wouldn’t change that). Because for the first time, Paddy was terrified, and there was nothing Malark could do to help. He didn’t know if them both being in close proximity would double the bad luck or not. But the fear was almost tangible. His hands shook as Mina tried to coax some soup into him. Malark had brushed them off, saying to help Paddy first because he didn’t want to terrify him if he started choking. Now, watching Paddy struggle to eat, he wondered if he’d done the wrong thing. Paddy was staring at the food like it would kill him.</p><p>          Even if Malark didn’t have feelings for Paddy (he <em>didn’t</em>), he would have <em>hated </em>that expression.</p><p>          And even though they didn’t know it, things were going to get worse—<em>much </em>worse.</p><p>          But not in the way they thought.</p><p>~</p><p>          Paddy didn’t know what happened.</p><p>          He didn’t know what had gone wrong.</p><p>          He didn’t know what he had done wrong.</p><p>          As he stared down at his hand while Mina bandaged it, his eyes burning and blurry, he went over it again. And again. And again.</p><p>          It was Day Two of the bad luck spell, and he had been walking with Malark and the others through the town. They were walking in front of a potions shop when a young man came storming out, shouting about wasted money. He’d bumped into Nagar, spilling the potion in his hand, and Malark had shoved Paddy out of the way and taken the hit instead. The next thing Paddy knew, his ears registered a series of sickening <em>cracks</em> and <em>snaps</em>, his hand was burning, his nose was bleeding, and Malark had pinned him to a wall with fingers around his throat. He looked so <em>angry</em>.</p><p>          His vision had blacked out long before Hashaan and Nagar finally wrenched Malark off him.</p><p>          Malark, who was chained in the other room, had tried to kill him.</p><p>          Mina finally finished wrapping his hand, and she gently touched his shoulder. “Hey, Paddy, do you want me to stay?” She asked, and he shook his head. Looking at Gwing and Ryce, who were watching over him this time, she looked back. “We’ll have the antidote in not time, I promise.”</p><p>          Almost numb, he nodded once and laid down, curling up under the covers. According to the potion’s buyer, it was meant to be a luck potion. Paddy had three broken fingers and knuckles that said otherwise. The potion owner had mentioned an antidote. Midnight’s blood and chimera’s eye in spring water. The others were looking for it. He was meant to get some rest, much like Malark.</p><p>          Malark, who had once been hired to kill him.</p><p>          Malark, who was chained to the bed in Nagar’s room with the dragonborns watching him.</p><p>          Malark, who had tried to kill him.</p><p>          Every time he closed his eyes, all Paddy could feel were Malark’s fingers trying to squeeze the life out of him.</p><p>~</p><p>          “We got it.”</p><p>          When Malark opened his eyes, his head was pounding and his throat felt like someone had poured sand down it. Everyone was sitting around him, tired dark circles under their eyes. As he sat up and counted heads, he realised that Rook and Mina weren’t there.</p><p>          And neither was Paddy.</p><p>          Eyes wide, he swung his legs off the bed and tried to stand. Nagar caught him as his legs gave out because oh, yeah, one of them was still broken. “Padd—” Cutting off with a harsh, racking cough, he allowed himself to be guided into a chair. “Where—what—”</p><p>          “Do you remember anything, Malark?” Gwing asked, leaning forwards, and he glanced around. The last thing he remembered was walking in the streets…and that idiot storming out of the shop. Should have watched where he was going, the stupid son of a boar, he was carrying an open potion bottle, maybe if he’d looked he wouldn’t have spilled that stupid potion of—</p><p>          The potion.</p><p>          Looking up, he forced out, “What did I do?” They all exchanged worried glances, so he repeated every thorn-edged word, not caring if his throat bled. “<em>What—did—I—do?” </em></p><p>“You almost killed Paddy.” Terra began, and Malark froze. Then, he was stumbling for the door, for his and Paddy’s room. He barely made it, leaning in the doorway.</p><p>          Paddy was lying on the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept in days but <em>alive</em>. When his gaze flicked to Malark’s, attracted by the movement, they widened and brightened and he sat up. Rook and Mina whipped around and into fighting mode, so he held his hands up. “The—the antidote. It worked.” He choked out, completely guessing that was what they had used.</p><p>          In the next moment, Paddy had crossed the room like he’d never sprained his ankle and pulled him into a hug. Spikes of guilt crossed Malark’s skin when hefelt bandages wrapped around Paddy’s right hand, when he saw the hand-shaped bruises at his neck. “You’re okay.” The wood elf breathed, and then he was sobbing into Malark’s neck with his arms wrapped tight. Somehow, Malark managed to get them both onto the bed. Rook and Mina slipped out, closing the door behind them. The moment they were gone, Paddy yanked him down on the bed.</p><p>          “How long?”</p><p>          “A week.”</p><p>          “I’m sorry.”</p><p>          “Not your fault.” Hands ran over his arms and down his sides in a way that was anything but platonic, like they were a couple and Paddy was checking him for injuries after a hard battle. Like Paddy couldn’t tell if he was real. “I wish I could have helped.” He whispered, almost sadly, and meeting Malark’s gaze.</p><p>          In response, Malark wrapped his hands around Paddy’s neck and pulled him into a hug again. He didn’t care how touchy-feely it looked. If the others brought it up, he’d stab them. “You’re helping.”</p><p>          They fell asleep like that some time later.</p><p>~</p><p>          On their way out of town, they stopped by where the witch had lived.</p><p>          Everything had been cleared away, except for some wreckage.</p><p>          Since Paddy “wasn’t of much help with a broken hand” (although he had a feeling the others were all just worried about him overexerting himself, something they could affect while Malark would ignore them), he was sentenced to sitting on a log watching over Malark as he picked through some of the ruins. He also read over the potion’s information paper. Turns out the maker had <em>really </em>messed up, considering—</p><p>          <em>“No.” </em></p><p>          Paddy glanced up to see Malark staring at some loose fabric in his hands. “What is it?” Gwing asked, wandering over. Malark paled and help up the fabric.</p><p>          “That wasn’t some innocent old witch. The Guild was here.” He forced out, adding, “We made a mistake.”</p><p>          Gwing took the fabric, frowning as she memorised the symbol. “I’m afraid we’ll have to keep moving—we can’t change the past. Everyone to the horses! We’re heading out! Paddy, does that parchment have anything of interest?”</p><p>          “Not really. The handwriting’s really messy, so I haven’t gotten that far. I’ll keep going over it, though.” Malark helped him onto his horse, and Paddy smiled. As the assassin walked away, Paddy glanced down at the potion information again. Midnight’s blood was moondrop flowers. Chimera’s eye was meat from a white-spotted rabbit. The villagers all knew the cure, the group only had to ask for help. It was meant to turn bad feelings to good ones, but something messed up so the effect was the opposite.</p><p>          Specifically, the potion “turned love to hate”.</p><p>          But he could ask about <em>that</em> later, if Malark ever brought it up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some reference to “High Hopes Low Dance Moves”, but most of these won’t really be too connected. There should be some more HHLR fics coming out soon, and once it hits thirteen I’ll do a master fic where they’re all in the same place, plus several bonus ones that will only be included there. Just to make reading it worth your time.<br/>Now, into the fray we go!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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